SixtySix Days Grace
by KhemRocks
Summary: When a Pharaoh passed on, 66 days passed in which he was embalmed before the new king was crowned. A look at how Atem may have coped with his father's death and why Mahaad sometimes says "I'll protect you," when he really wants to say "I'm sorry."


**Sixty-Six Days Grace**

**Summary: **In ancient Egypt, when a Pharaoh passed on, there was a 66-day period in which the former Pharaoh was embalmed before the new king was crowned. A look at how Atem may have coped during this time and why Mahaad sometimes says "I will protect you," because he can't say "I'm sorry." Character death.

**Disclaimer: **Property of Kazuki Takahaski and affiliated. I make no profit from this, etc.

**Before**

A pall of sadness hung over the opulent room, feeling as heavy to the young magician who was seated at the edge of the bed as the weight of the knowledge that his Pharaoh, the man who had brought him to the palace, saw that he was trained and made ready to live a life far beyond that which he would have achieved on his own, would soon be gone. The strong, wise ruler who had led Kemet for may years would soon depart for his journey through the underworld and the dreaded twelve hours of night, to be reborn and commune with his fellow gods on a plane of existence beyond this one. And what made the weight on Mahaad's own heart so much worse was the knowledge that he blamed himself for the Pharaoh's current state. _If he had not told his king what he had learned that day…_

The flicker of the oil lamps glinted off the golden statues and fine furniture that decorated the room from where they were set in niches in the expertly painted walls of the king's chamber, though now the strong pharaonic figure they depicted was a far cry from the figure who lay on the carved wooden bed, his complexion paled to almost match the colour of the linen covers drawn up to his chest.

Mahaad had tried his best to reassure the king, to try and ease the burden of guilt that exhausted his mind and caused his body to weaken, wasting his life away. But the king accepted full responsibility and had, when he had been stronger, made preparations as best he could to prepare his only son, his heir, for what he would almost surely face during his reign. Both the Pharaoh and magician fervently hoped that that day, if it should come, would do so once the young man was older, when his knowledge of the Shadows and _heka_ was greater, and the kingship had had time to settle around his shoulders like a well-worn cape. In the end, the king made Mahaad know that he would have the final say in the matter, asserting his authority and indomitable will in one of his last acts of rule, as Mahaad leaned closer to hear him: "By bringing the Millennium Items into this world, I have unleashed a great threat. My reign will soon end, but please, guide my son so that he may use these Items to restore peace."

Peace had always been Aknumkhanon's greatest, foremost desire for Khemet and her people, wanting to spare the land he ruled and her subjects from the ravages of battle, as any good king would, though he was often secretive about the events that had befallen the king as a young prince to make him so passionate about his desire since the very beginning of his rule, when the Double Crown of the Two Lands was first set upon his brow. Even now, as he lay on his deathbed (Mahaad realized with a sudden jolt of sadness that the pharaoh's words had also revealed that he did indeed realize, despite the hopeful words of the palace's physicians, that his soul would indeed soon pass on), it was his most fervent wish. It was also apparent that he, like the magician, had come to believe in the strengths and potential of the King's Son, of His Body, young though he was.

"I never wanted Atem to inherit the crook and flail so young," the king murmured, as if reading Mahaad's mind. "He is strong, but to take the throne now, at only twelve summers, and to face what he must so unprepared…" the Pharaoh trailed off with a soft groan before coughing, raising a hand weakly to cover his mouth until it passed, prompting Mahaad to lean forward again in concern.

**During**

"Father-!" the Prince cried, stumbling further forward into the bedchamber, his eyes wide and shocked, upset, seeing his father lying on his gilded bed across the room, shafts of sunlight falling across the linen, Siamun in a chair near it. Surely not even death itself could bring down his father? He could defeat it somehow, he knew it! But deep down, he knew that it was a foolish, desperate hope.

_It must be such a shock_ Siamun thought, gazing sadly at the boy, _To see a man he always held, as did so many, to be so strong, so untouchable, struck down, lying weak on his deathbed. _

"My son," the Pharaoh rumbled, beckoning to his son. He had no sooner than to speak than the Prince had run forward, and, not being stopped by anyone, had run to his father's bedside and flung his arms around his neck. "You are really not well, Father?" he began tremulously.

"My boy," the king murmured, reaching a trembling hand to rest on his son's cheek. "I am glad I am able to see you."

"I tried to get in before!" cried the prince, becoming more upset at what he felt was an implied accusation if negligence, "I tried, but they wouldn't let me!"

"I know," soothed his father. "It was right, Atem. You should not have to see. But I wanted to say goodbye, and now you will become Pharaoh, and you must see all, no matter how much you want to close your eyes." With his last vestiges of strength, he removed the Millennium Pendant from around his neck and pressed it towards his son.

The prince hesitated at the brush of the metal against his hands, daring to speak one of his greatest fears aloud, feeling selfish for revealing his doubt to the king. "Father…I'm not sure if I can…I don't know…"

"Hush," came the reply, the prince feeling strangely slightly soothed by the return of his father's strong will and voice, "I have seen what you are, what you will become. Listen to those you trust, do what you feel is right, and you will steer a true course for this land. Atem…like your name, like the sun, you will light this land. I am proud of you, my son. I love you…"

"Father!" the cry burst out of Atem, as he pressed his father's hand even more tightly between his own. He could feel, as Siamun could, that the end was approaching.

"I love you…" the king repeated, his eyes sliding closed. Through the terrible weight of grief and shock, Atem thought he heard his father's final breath carry the whisper of "I'm sorry…" _But then, _he managed to think through his poor, upset mind, allowing the first of his tears to finally fall, _what did his father have to apologise for? _Pushing it aside, for his grief left room for little else, he bowed his shuddering back over his father's hand, his entire body shaking with sobs, managing a reply that, though it was barely coherent through his tears, revealed his whole heart: "I love you too, Father. I do…"

Behind him, Siamun felt the prickle of tears behind his own eyes and he forced himself to clear his throat and intone: "The royal falcon has flown into the west. The prince Atem has risen in his place."

**After**

In terms of the actual ceremonial mourning period, in which the Pharaohs' (_former_ Pharaoh, oh by the lords of light, what was he going to _do_? _Former _Pharaohs') body was prepared for the afterlife, Atem found that there were parts of it that he was so grateful for he gave thanks to the gods themselves, and parts of it that he despised with every fibre of his being.

One of the aspects he was strangely grateful for (though still terrible through its very cause) was the simple fact that that time period existed, and therefore that his coronation was not so soon after his father's death. The mummification process took seventy days, and while the rest of Egypt let their hair and beards grow long in the traditional sign of mourning, and the throne of Khemet displayed only a bouquet of flowers, the former prince was allowed something of a breathing period. Once the simple, terrible fact of his father's passing had sunk in to as much degree as it was going to at that time, he had found time to shut himself in his private quarters and finally give into the terrible grief that had been creeping up on him, suffocating him. How would he ever go on, let alone rule a nation, without his father's advice, his strong presence? His fate was rushing headlong towards him like a speeding chariot while his grief made him feel like all he wanted to do was lie in bed hunched under his covers, finally feeling the tears begin to overwhelm him, welling up in his eyes, streaking his kohl, soaking his bed linens. It was usually at this point that he would hear a nasty little voice in his head reminding him that _Pharaohs never cry_. And then he would feel worse, as if he was betraying his father's very memory: he had been a good, strong leader, and now he had departed for the glorious Field of Reeds, as he so rightly deserved, and if Osiris, Foremost of the Westerners, ever permitted him to look through to the world of the living, he would see the sobbing, pathetic _failure_ he had left behind as a replacement. The thought that he would ever disappoint his father was one of Atem's greatest secret fears, and now the weight of it felt like it would crush him as easily as a huge block of sandstone would a blade of grass. It would drag him further down into his terrible, dark grief, perpetuating a seemingly never-ending vicious cycle, as if his treacherous mind wouldn't let him rest until it had wrung every last bit of misery out of him.

And so he cried, the sort of crying that made a person wonder how many tears a human body was capable of producing, that seemed to go on for hours, the sort of crying that when it finally ends leaves you aching all over, your body occasionally shuddering with the aftershocks, eyes swollen, head pounding. He lay there, half-curled into a foetal position, for what felt to him could have been a single terrible hour or even several dark days.

*******

Some part of Mahaad must have known this, for he was soon to be found walking down the columned halls of the palace, carrying a soothing cup of liquid he had brewed himself, which the magician hoped would calm him and soothe his head. Through his own grief Mahaad had gone to the soon-to-be-Pharaoh's aid, because he was a boyhood friend and because he thought that he would certainly be poorly serving his promise to the Osiris Aknumkhanon by allowing his beloved only son to see if it was actually possible to die from sheer misery.

As he walked, a voice hailed him. Turning, he saw Mana, his young apprentice running towards him. When she stopped before him he could see the slightly drawn look in her own eyes, and knew that she, like the rest of their countryfolk, was still shocked, left reeling by the apparently sudden death of their ruler.

"You're going to see the Prince, aren't you?" she said. It wasn't a question. "Let me come with you. I want to see him, too."

"Mana, maybe it's best that it just be one at a time for now -" Mahaad began, but was once again interrupted.

"Please, he's my friend too. Master, he needs cheering up. I can help. I want to see if I can cheer him up, just like you. Please?"

Seeing the desperation in her green eyes, Mahaad relented. "Alright," he agreed, "just be gentle. He probably still needs some time." Seeing her earnest nod, he allowed her to accompany him. When they finally neared the royal quarters, they saw the _tjaty_, Siamun, approaching the doors from the corridor opposite. "So, you had the same idea as I," the older man noted as they drew closer to each other, his gaze travelling over he and Mana before lowering to the cup the male magician carried. "A little friendship and one of your concoctions?"

"Yes," murmured Mahaad. "May we accompany you?"

Mana expected them to be turned away, but was relieved and surprised to hear, after the Vizier had paused for thought, "of course. Perhaps what I have to say will be heard better in company."

******

Atem himself came to greet them in the receiving room just before his private bedchamber. His eyes were sunken and bloodshot with exhaustion and upset. He'd obviously made an effort to clean and compose himself before receiving his guests, face slightly red from where he'd rubbed at it and straightening his shoulders, but Mana and Mahaad were cheered slightly by the fact that he relaxed fractionally upon seeing that it was them, even if it did mean that his distress was clear once more. The elder magician offered consolation on the way that he knew best, through his training as a priest. "The king's soul was just," he stated. "The scales will find him worthy, and he will pass onto to a glorious hereafter in the Field of Reeds. The gods will welcome him." Mana nodded her own agreement, offering a weak attempt at a reassuring smile. The words, though felt and often spoken with such passion, sounded hollow even to Mahaad's own ears. He stepped closer towards the Prince.

"I prepared this draught" he began, holding out the cup. "It will soothe you and calm your head."

"Thank you," Atem murmured in his deep baritone, gratefully accepting the cup, seating himself in one of the low ornate chairs in the anteroom before his chambers and gesturing the three to the others. They were relieved that the former prince wanted them to stay: while they genuinely wanted to help him, they knew that their task would be nearly impossible if the future king had decided that he was not ready for it - his stubborn nature was well known.

"What am I going to do?" he murmured softly, brokenly, staring into the swirling contents of his cup.

"You will rule," Siamun replied. Mahaad admired the older man's confidence, but still couldn't help but suppress a flinch at the way the words sounded harsh and clumsy in the quiet room. "We have faith in you, highness," he contributed.

"Yes, you will be great," agreed Mana. The young magician was leaning forward, her large watery eyes full of sympathetic emotion as she stared at her childhood friend.

"How can I possibly…"

Siamun continued, with a tone of finality. "Because you have your training, and our support, as well as that of the other priests. Surely you know that? The path ahead may seem long and dark, but you have what you need to navigate it."

"Like the Underworld…" the future king murmured, lifting his head to regard him at last.

"Yes," the tjaty forged ahead after a moment's pause, not having wanted to remind the prince of death in any way that he could, but realizing that maybe it could help, if he could use it to reassure him as to both of his reasons for distress at the same time, "in a way. Like your father, you has a journey ahead of you, but you are both prepared for what you will face, through what you have learned. Use what you have learned as you have grown, as your father will use the _pert em hru_, to make your way forward. And you will both be reborn: him to peace, and you to a great leader."

Mahaad started to find the right words, feeling more able to allow his faith to speak through him rather than his feelings of awkwardness and uncertainty at the situation. He knew what meant most to Atem, trying to tell him all he could without revealing the secrets he must keep from him for now. "You are your father's son, your highness. You will continue his work, and make it great."

There was a pause, in which the former prince stared at the ground, his gaze mostly obscured by his unusual blonde bangs, in which his small audience held their collective breath. They had begun to break the prince out of his grief, if his fledgling re-willingness to speak had appeared to show, but now they felt as if his emotions could go either way. Then he lifted his head slightly, and though his eyes, when they saw them, were watery and their look was crushed by the weight of his grief, his old determination was seeping back in, and his gratitude at their company and support was beginning to light them. "Thank you," he murmured.

And Mahaad, though he allowed himself to smile at the sight of it, as he saw Siamun nod and Mana stand to hug Atem as finally allowed himself to sip from the cup the magician had given him, felt, through his guilt-laden mind, that the gratitude towards him was misplaced, feeling like he would suffocate in the sheer depths of misery that he saw in those violet pools. How would he ever truly meet those eyes again, knowing that he was partly to blame for the sadness within them? For taking away the person Atem looked up to, whom he loved, his only remaining close family, away from him? _If I hadn't have told him that day_. The thought would become the very mantra of his life, the cry of his soul.

******

Despite his training in the priestly rites, it was still jarring to see him in the holy vestments of a high priest, clad in a white schenti with a leopard skin draped across his chest from one shoulder. Mahaad could even see the head and paws of the animal from where they hung. They had not had a chance to talk on the procession up to the tomb, Aknumkhanon's sarcophagus carried on a sled pulled by oxen as they climbed under the hot sun, but now that they and the other members of the court and priests had assembled, Mahaad could get a clearer look at Atem from where he stood opposite him in the cooler air of the tomb. While far more composed than he had been during the first swell of his grief, the future king still looked slightly drawn. It was enough to make Mahaad briefly think that this was not a good custom: to make the still-grieving prince to accompany his father's embalmed corpse and carry out the rites to open his senses in the afterlife. But he knew that this would legitimize Atem's reign as the new Pharaoh, and perhaps he would feel better and feeling like he could do something more for his father. Mahaad watched him carry out the rituals, and when it was his turn to kiss the canopic jars he allowed himself to quickly glance up and meet his eyes. The flickering lights of the pitch torches and oil lamps lent them an otherworldly glow that was strangely in keeping with the occasion.

Soon he and the rest of their companions, those who would make up the Pharaoh's inner court who were already offering their own silent support, would swear their oaths of loyalty to this new king. But they could not strengthen Mahaad's promise any more: he realized that his promise to Aknumkhanon, his own feelings of guilt and his duty were not the only reasons he would guard this man with his life: his faith and devotion had its own roots. Though he knew that this man had cried and had temporarily lost faith in himself, Mahaad had no such misgivings: his faith would never die, even if he should. He would turn it and his guilt into the power to protect him. He'd made his own vows long before, when a young boy had sucked the poison from his arm, and spoke with a smile of his dreams of a world of equality and friendship.

**Author's Notes:**

Hope people enjoyed! Largely based, of course, on the conversation Mahaad and Atem have in the underground temple. Find the direct quotes! Haha. Atem may seem a bit OOC of here, but it clear from what we have that there was clearly a lot of love, however expressed, between he and his father, and I think, at least, that losing him without really understanding why, along with taking the throne so young (11/12 in the Japanese - yes I do mix and match), would very much upset him, at least right afterwards him and when he was allowed to be alone.

_Pert em hru - _a translation is the "books of coming forth by day," as mentioned in the _Yu-Gi-Oh! _Shadow Games manga volume 2. Unless I am mistaken, these texts, which at different points in Ancient Egypt's history were written on the wrapping of mummies, the walls of pyramids and tombs and on papyrus, were meant to guide the soul of the deceased through the various challenges of the underworld to reach the judgement of the scales of Ma'at. Beyond this, if their heart was placed on the scales and found to be lighter than Ma'at's feather, not weighed down by sin, they would pass on to their glorious afterlife in the Field of Reeds. Hope this makes sense in terms of Siamun's comparison.

_Tjaty_ - Ancient Egyptian term from vizier, the advisor to the king.

The last paragraph: SPOILERS! I guess: in the original Japanese version, one of the earliest reasons for Mahaad's loyalty was a young Atem telling him of how he wished the world could be equal, and people could live without the boundaries of status etc.


End file.
